by Romy Sommer
And he’s leaving in two days.
“I should leave you to sleep.” His voice is a low hum, and I open my eyes. “I just wanted to tell you that I’ll be leaving soon.”
He rises from the sofa and heads to the door, leaving me still seated, clutching the box of chocolates.
“Sweet dreams,” he says from the door. Then he lets himself out.
I switch out all the lights and climb into the enormous bed. Alone, still clutching the chocolates. All I can hear is Elena’s voice: ‘… he won’t stick around until morning’. I can’t even get him to stick around for the night.
Chapter 19
Adam
“This tie feels like a bloody noose.” Max runs his fingers inside his collar, as if to loosen the tie.
“Feeling nervous?”
“No, I just hate wearing ties.”
He is nervous, though. “Trust me, she won’t back out now,” I reassure him. Our conversation is hushed as the wood-panelled city hall chamber is rapidly filling with guests. Since this is only the civil wedding, there’s no music, no pageantry, no bouquets or fancy floral arrangements, and no important dignitaries, just family. Admittedly, on Max’s side that family includes two heads of state and a good many titles. I’m probably one of the lowest ranking people in the room.
Max fidgets with his collar again. “That’s not what I’m worried about. I’m trapping her in this life. It’s not the one I originally promised her.”
What the hell does that mean? I thought he met her in Waldburg when she was backpacking around Europe. He was already archduke by then, so what other life could he have offered her?
But Khara told me she was there when they met, so that must have been in …
I don’t have time to follow that line of thought through to its conclusion, as the guests are rising and everyone turns to face the door, where the bride has just appeared. Phoenix is wearing a sleeveless, cream-coloured dress that looks more Marilyn Monroe than the dress of an archduchess, but she’s easily one of the most beautiful brides I’ve ever seen. Probably because of the radiant glow on her face. Max finally stops fidgeting, mesmerised as his bride walks towards him. I glance at him and he has honest-to-God tears in his eyes as he looks at her. My gaze slides past Phoenix, and my own chest squeezes tight.
I’d say that Khara cleans up well, except that she has always looked beautiful. That first morning we met in the breakfast room, when she was dressed in ripped jeans and with her hair loose, she was just as striking as she is now.
But something has changed. Maybe it’s because I know her better now. God, I wish I didn’t. It would be so much easier to take her to bed if I didn’t know her. If I didn’t know that sleeping with her and walking away was only going to prove to her what dicks men like me are.
Just two more nights. I need to get through just two more nights without giving in to temptation. How hard can that be?
Her hair is pulled back in a sophisticated French twist, and her dress is pink with grey flowers, soft and floaty, the skirt ending just above the knee. My gaze trails down her bare legs then slowly moves back up to her face as she sits in the chair beside me. She’s glaring at me.
I’m relieved to see that flash of fire in her eyes. For a moment I wondered if this stylish, self-possessed woman was the same outspoken, wild waitress I’ve been fantasising about every night.
“Focus!” she mouths, and with a rueful grin I turn my attention to the Mayor of Neustadt, who is already greeting the assembled guests.
Max and Phoenix are seated at the table before the Mayor. The ceremony is simple: bride and groom affirm under oath who they are and that neither is married to anyone else. They exchange vows and rings, Max moving her engagement ring from her left hand to her right in the Germanic custom, and Phoenix sliding onto his right hand a simple engraved titanium band. Then it’s time to sign the register. Max and Phoenix sign first, then the Mayor and her deputy, and finally Khara and me as witnesses. When Khara bends over the documents to sign, she glances up at the bridal pair with a cheeky grin and Max winks at her, as if they share a secret.
The guests precede us out of the chamber, to wait below the city hall steps. Further back, there’s a security cordon beyond which a horde of photographers and flag-waving well-wishers have gathered. As we reach the main entrance and the noise of the crowd hits us, Khara flinches. I take her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.
As we step out into the sunlight I reluctantly let go. We take our places on either side of the entrance, and then Max and Phoenix step through. In a break from tradition, the guests throw handfuls of eco-friendly bird seed instead of confetti, the cameras flash, the cheers rise to fever-pitch and the bridal couple smile and wave. Then there’s the anticipated kiss for the cameras, which is pretty tame by Max and Phoenix’s usual standards.
When they’re done, Max and Phoenix move towards the crowd to meet their fans but, before they do, Max catches Khara’s hand and pulls her close. “Thanks for the dress,” he says, so low I’m only just able to catch the words. I raise an eyebrow in enquiry, but Khara merely shakes her head and smiles.
The cars are already waiting to take us back to the palace, a vintage Rolls-Royce Phantom for the bride and groom, prosaic minibuses for the rest of us. I find myself squashed into the back seat of a bus with Khara on one side and a British duke on the other. Up front, Teresa is sitting in Christian’s lap to make space for other passengers.
“Our lives are not always as glamorous as they seem,” I whisper to Khara and she chuckles, though she tries hard not to.
The drive is far too short for my liking. I rather enjoy having Khara’s thigh and arm pressed up against mine. I itch to do something about it, the way I would have done a few short weeks ago, but I behave, even though it causes me actual physical pain.
We pose for the official photographer on the grand staircase of the palace, first the bridal party, then the family, then all forty plus invited guests. When we’re done I look around for Khara, but she has disappeared. I frown.
I know we’re not joined at the hip or anything, but she usually wouldn’t leave without at least acknowledging me.
After the photographs, we make our way onto the terrace for drinks. Late afternoon sunlight angles down across the flower beds, and the scent of lavender and roses perfumes the air. The guests mill around the garden, sipping Champagne and being beautiful.
I catch a glimpse of Khara across the garden, talking to Teresa and Christian, and start to make my way towards them, but I’m waylaid by Rik. “Not planning to leave the party early again?” he teases. “Or are you still scouting for a likely candidate to leave with?”
“Neither. Haven’t you heard? I’m a reformed man these days.” I look again for Khara, but she seems to have moved away.
He looks at me askance. “Is that code for ‘I’ve already slept with every available woman at this party’, or does it mean you’re seriously considering your uncle’s offer?”
“I know for a fact I haven’t slept with every available woman at this party, and yes, I’m considering it.”
Rik grins. “Good for you. You’ll make a much better ruler than Mátyás and, for that matter, a much better ruler than Nick.” He frowns. “Am I allowed to say that about the dead?”
I shrug. “Why not? Far worse has been said about him. I gather his death is something of a relief in Erdély. His gambling habit was becoming very hard to keep under wraps. Do you know he was barred from two Vegas casinos last year? And in one of the seedier dives in the city he started a bar brawl. It wasn’t pretty.”
“And I’ll bet you were there to bail him out.” Rik’s expression is serious now. “You’ve always been a really good friend.”
Not always.
“Where’s your wife?” I ask, which isn’t really a change of subject.
“Upstairs, having a nap before dinner. I offered to stay with her, but she says I’m a distraction.” Rik chuckles. He’s hardly the same man I remem
ber from our uni days. He used to take himself so seriously, but these days he’s more likely to be the one joining me in the grotto to drink illicitly.
And thinking of the grotto … I turn to search the garden again. Since there’s no sign of a pink dress with grey flowers, I give up looking. “Let’s get a drink and get this party started.”
From the terrace, we move inside to the Yellow Drawing Room for yet more drinks. It’s still light outside and all the tall sash windows are open, which is a relief as the room is getting very crowded and stuffy. More guests have arrived, mostly palace staff and representatives from some of the charities the royal family supports, who’ve been invited to join the evening banquet.
Phoenix and Max are at the entrance to the drawing room, greeting the new arrivals. I grab two bottles of water from the temporary bar set up at one end of the room and head over to them.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Phoenix says, popping open the bottle I hand to her.
“Have you seen Khara this evening?” I try to sound casual, but the look she gives me suggests I’ve failed miserably.
“Last time I saw her, Teresa was introducing her to some people.”
That’s my job. Though, admittedly, Teresa is probably related to even more people in this room than I am.
I only see Khara again when we meet outside the state dining room to take our places for dinner. She has changed into a more formal evening outfit of forest green, in a classic style that accentuates her curves, making her look like a glamorous fifties movie star.
“You look beautiful.”
She smiles, but her focus is somewhere over my shoulder. A sense of unease grips my stomach. She’s avoiding me, won’t even look me in the eye as I offer her my arm to lead her into the dining room.
The tables have been set up in a horseshoe shape to accommodate all one hundred dinner guests. The staff have worked for two days to lay the tables and get this room ready, and the amount of silverware and crystal is dazzling.
Once all the other guests are at their places, the six of us who will be seated at the head table make our grand entrance. Following the past years’ scandals in the royal family, Max decided to avoid controversy and seated his family elsewhere. There are also no politicians or religious leaders at the high table. Max is turning out to be a master of diplomacy.
He and Phoenix lead the way to polite applause, then the Mayor and her partner, with Khara and I bringing up the rear. The only hint that the confidence she exudes is only skin-deep is the way she grips my arm.
“You’re avoiding me,” I say in a low voice as we progress down the long room, smiling at everyone. “Was it something I said?”
“Nope.”
“Something I did?”
She smiles as if she hasn’t heard me.
“Is it because I’m leaving?”
Her jaw tightens. Bingo.
“You’re the one who told me I should do something constructive with my life. Why are you upset now that I’m doing something about it?”
“I’m not upset about it.” But she says it through gritted teeth.
We reach the high table and I escort her to her seat. I really want to carry on this discussion, and get to the bottom of why she’s mad at me – because, whatever she says, she is clearly mad at me – but my seat is at the far end of the high table and if I don’t take my place we’ll hold up the entire dinner.
Once I reach my chair, Max indicates for us all to sit. He remains standing to welcome the guests to dinner. Thankfully, it’s a short speech, then the first course is served.
Khara glances at the array of cutlery and wine glasses (seven at each table setting) and briefly meets my gaze.
“You can do this,” I mouth.
And she does. Despite the fact that we are on full view to the entire room, she keeps her poise, looking every bit as relaxed and at home as Phoenix. My heart swells with pride. This Vegas waitress is most definitely not a coward.
Throughout dinner, Khara and the Mayor keep up a lively conversation, though I can’t hear a word from where I’m seated. I wish I were with them. Instead, through the first five courses, I’m grilled by the Mayor’s partner, who turns out to be a political analyst who knows more about the current situation in Erdély than I do. When she hears I plan to visit, she’s vocal in her support of the idea. “The country doesn’t want to lose its independence, nor do they want to be ruled from afar by someone who doesn’t give a damn about them. Your uncle managed to win them over, but they won’t accept any less from his successor. They’ll choose union with Hungary rather than a bad ruler. You’ll need to commit to this.”
I don’t tell her that I’ve never committed to anything in my life. Or that I can barely commit to keeping my hands off a beautiful woman for more than a couple of days.
When the liveried footmen clear away the plates from the main course and all the Champagne glasses are filled, ready for the toasts, Max rises, striking a crystal glass for attention as if this were any ordinary wedding.
Then he nods to Khara and she moves to the microphone at the lectern. My hands clench anxiously for her beneath the table.
“This should be the Father of the Bride speech but, as most of you know, Georgiana’s parents are no longer with us.” Her American accent seems more pronounced coming through the speakers. Aside from the little wobble in her voice as she starts to talk, I can hardly tell she’s nervous. “I am honoured to be here today in the place of her family, but I’m also terrified, so I’m going to keep this short.” The guests laugh, and Khara turns to look at Max and Phoenix. “I don’t know what your father would say to you right now, but a good friend once told me, just as she was about to walk down the aisle to marry the love of her life, that she knew he was the one because being with him felt like coming home. I hope for the two of you that you will always be ‘home’ for each other, that you will continue to grow stronger because you are together.” She turns back to the audience and raises her glass. “I invite you all to join me in a toast to those who can’t be with us here today.”
Phoenix wipes away a tear. From where I’m sitting, I can see Max take her hand beneath the table. The guests raise their glasses, murmuring in response, and I get to my feet. As Khara passes me to go back to her seat, I give her arm a quick squeeze. Then it’s my turn to stand at the lectern and look out at the audience. I pick out a few familiar faces from the crowd.
I glance down at the speech on my phone. “I’m sure it won’t surprise most of you to know that I wasn’t Max’s first choice for best man. But, since everyone else was already taken, I got lucky.” There are a few nervous titters from the audience. “It was an incredible privilege for me to stand beside Max today. He’s truly one of the nicest people I know. We met when Rik and I were at Oxford together. Back then, Max was just my friend’s annoying kid brother we let hang around with us because we needed a fourth member on our polo team.” I pause, screwing up my face as if thinking. “Actually, not much has changed.” The titters are more genuine now. “Because Max was so easygoing and fun to have around, he kind of grew on me, and I’m very proud now to count him as a friend. But, no matter how nice he is, Max was always going to need a very special woman at his side, someone who shares his spirit of adventure, someone who puts up with his appalling taste in friends—” more laughter “—and someone who can support him in his role as archduke. I think Max really lucked out when he met Georgiana. Because no one could be more perfect for him than she is.” I lay down my phone and turn to the happy couple. “Together, you are a formidable team, and Westerwald is very lucky to have you.” Then, turning back to the guests, I raise my Champagne flute. “I ask you all to raise your glasses to the Archduke and Archduchess of Westerwald.”
There’s a scraping of chairs, a loud chorus of ‘Hear, hear’ and ‘Cheers’ in a number of different languages and, from Rik and Christian’s end of the table, the sound of drumming on the tables and one loud whoop.
Once the toast is done
, I move back to my seat and Max takes the microphone. He has to wait a few moments for everyone to take their seats and grow quiet again.
“My wife and I—” he glances at Phoenix, his eyes crinkling “—are saving our speeches for tomorrow night’s reception, so I’ll keep this quick. The jobs we do can be lonely. It is so important that we have friends we trust and can rely on, and we have been blessed with some very good friends.” With a sweep of his arm, he takes in his family, and Claus and Rebekah. “Tonight I’d like to thank both Adam and Khara for taking time out of their busy lives to be here for us these last few weeks.”
Phoenix rises and moves to stand beside him, and Max gestures for me and Khara to join them. From under the lectern, Phoenix takes two navy blue jewellery presentation boxes, one long and thin like a necklace case, the other square like a ring box. She hands the square one to me and the long thin one to Khara, giving us each a hug as she does so. We take our seats and the noise levels in the hall rise as normal conversation resumes.
I wait until the footmen start to serve dessert and coffee before I open my gift from Max and Phoenix. Inside the box, nestled against a bed of blue velvet, are a pair of gold cufflinks. I lift one out of the box; it’s in the shape of the royal crest of Erdély. I raise an eyebrow at Max, but he just grins.
“No pressure, mate, but I hope you accept your uncle’s offer. You’ll make a good ruler some day.”
No pressure? Right.
I glance down the table to where Khara is opening her gift. She pulls out not a piece of jewellery but a folded sheet of paper. She unfolds it and her mouth drops open. There are tears in her eyes when she looks at Phoenix, then at Max. “You shouldn’t have.” Her voice sounds choked.
Phoenix lays a hand over hers. “It’s traditional for the bride and groom to give the bridesmaid a gift. Or would you really have preferred jewellery?”
Khara wipes her eyes. “Are you kidding? Where would I wear fancy jewels? This is perfect. Thank you.”